


My Love Will Never Die

by staticpetrichor



Series: ACOTAR prompts [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Tumblr Prompt, feysand, ngl this one is kinda sad folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21730744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticpetrichor/pseuds/staticpetrichor
Summary: From the anon tumblr prompt "I'd give my left toes for some FeyrexRhysand angst"Title from the Hozier song by the same name
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: ACOTAR prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429963
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	My Love Will Never Die

Rhys smiles at his mate, fingertips drifting over her cheek. She laughs softly, the sound soft and mirthful. Her lips twitch as she whispers, words he can’t hear but would give anything to. Feyre leans down and kisses him. He kisses back,  _ of course he does _ , tastes the sweet cinnamon and overripe pear flavor of  _ her. _ He knows he has to savor this, knows it in that soul deep kind of way that overrides everything else. 

Feyre leans against his chest and his arms fold around her without a thought. She fits so perfectly in his embrace. Rhys never wants to let her go, wants to stay in this bed with her, spend a million lazy hours teasing with tongue and teeth alike. Wants to watch her clever blue-grey eyes light up as she throws a quip back at him faster than should be possible. He still hasn’t managed to count every freckle on her delicate nose, across her cheeks. But most of all Rhys just wants to hear her laugh again. 

Part of him tugs, whispering that he needs to go, that this place isn’t meant for him. And the voice is right. But he wishes it was, doesn’t think he’s ever wanted something more. He kisses the top of her head. Tries, futilely, to force every bit of love and reverence he can into the small gesture. 

He hopes she knows. How much he loves her, that he’d sell his soul to change the way it all came crumbling down, how sorry he is. And he realizes that she wouldn’t want that, wouldn’t have accepted his apologies, but he murmurs them all the same. Not that it matters. She won’t hear him ever again. 

⁂

When Rhysand wakes up it’s to an empty bed and a lingering cinnamon smell, aged enough that it’ll be blamed on the pillow besides him. None of it’s new. The past few months since he lost his mate have been like the same day repeated over and over. Like he’s once again trapped in some sadist’s play, a never-ending nightmare. 

The hole inside his chest burns and aches, snarls and snaps like a trapped and dying animal. He reminds himself, thoughts merciless and punishing, that the only time he will see Feyre again is in a twisted dreamworld where everything has been tainted by the infected claws of grief. 

The worst part is that he knows it’s all fake, knows he’s destined to fall asleep and fall back in love with her all over again, just to have it torn away each morning.

And yet he still looks forward to the moment his eyes can slip shut. He never was any good at staying away from her. 


End file.
